


come gather round

by MidnightMixer



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Because fuck canon, M/M, Messenger Prompto, Time Travel, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 04:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17135267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMixer/pseuds/MidnightMixer
Summary: "Yeah, I could get you guys back," he says lightly. "But, y'know, it's pretty interesting that there's more than just the divine way of travelling through time. Gotta wonder if there are other differences, too." There's an odd weight to his words- not the divine weight that Older Noctis' voice had gone when he had called the Messenger, but one deliberately placed. Older Noctis' gaze sharpens, becoming intense.





	come gather round

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by kaciart's messenger Prompto art [here](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/173906091228)

Noctis is staring at the older version of himself. He's not quite over it yet. He's not sure if he actually ever will be. Ignis doesn't seem to be sharing his thoughts, but Ignis is good at appearing calm and collected regardless of whether or not he actually is. Gladio still looks somewhat suspicious. Clarus hasn't looked away from the older Gladio for much longer than half a minute at a time, and the older Gladio looks at his father with concealed grief. Noct isn't sure he wants to know what happened in the future to cause that look. Or the same grieving look his own older self is giving his father. Or the fact that Ignis is blind, scars obvious and barely faded even with their apparent age, and the glasses that do little to hide it.

"In other words, there is no way for you to get back to your own time." His father's voice cuts through his ruminations, and Noct finds himself looking up at the commanding tone with no actual input from his brain. He sees Ignis and Gladio do the same in the corner of his eyes.

"Not unless we find the monster that brought us here and get it to take us back. Which'd be hard, considering we have no idea if it's even alive at this point in time, or if it can send us back at all- or if it'll just choose not to in the end," his older self scoffs in annoyance and adds sarcastically, "Or maybe we can find another way to time travel."

"Another version of time travel, huh?" Says the other Gladio, in a tone meant to indicate that there is, actually, another version of time travel. Older Noctis seems just as confused as Noct feels, even as Older Ignis perks up.

"What? We don't have-"

"Don't we?" Ignis cuts off Older Noctis- weird, considering he's pretty sure Ignis has never interrupted him before. Wonders of the future, Noct guesses. Older Noct still looks confused, and then realization crosses his face.

"Huh. I'm an idiot." He says as if that explains anything at all.

“Don’t worry, we don’t hold it against you.” Other Gladio drawls.

“Much," adds Other Ignis. Other Noct rolls his eyes fondly, which is weird to see on his own face, let alone his own face plus a side of wrinkles. Astrals, Older him was supposed to be thirty, not forty!

"You actually have a method of time travelling?" Cor asks incredulously, which Noct wholeheartedly agrees with. The entire situation is incredulity-inducing. And he's been spending far too much time around Specs, jeez.

"We know a guy." Older Gladio grunts, small smirk in place.

"Oh?" Noct's father hums, leaning forward slightly in his throne, interest gleaming in his eyes.

"A Messenger," Other Ignis clarifies, "of the Oracle."

"And you can- contact this Messenger?" Clarus speaks, attention divested from his future-son. Noct nods, even as Ignis chimes in.

"I believed that only the Oracle could contact her Messengers."

"He gave me a... blessing? I guess? I can call him and he'll be able to hear me."

"Ain't the only thing he gave you," Other Gladio mutters. It takes Noct a moment to process the low rumble, and then to process the implication. He practically feels his mind blue-screening.

"What?" He feels himself blurt out, strangled. Distantly, he sees Older Ignis sigh in exasperation as he presses his fingers to his temples. Older Gladio doesn't look at all cowed by the nasty glare Older Noctis is sending him and Noct can hear Clarus make an odd sound behind him. He finds that he doesn't want to see his father's reaction to that and so doesn't turn around to check.

"You-! With a Messenger?!" Gladio sounds reasonably shocked. Noct hears his older self mutter something that sounded like "Thanks a lot, Gladio."

Older Gladio snorts and retorts, "As if you two could hide it for more than five minutes!"

"I was under the impression Messengers aren't even human," Cor, only somewhat calm, points out.

Noct's older and obviously insane self is blushing (which, weird), and shifts on his feet. "Sort of. Prom's... a special case, I guess."

"Prompto is partly human. The way he explained it was that Messengers rarely start out as what we tend to imagine the typical Messengers to be. He, at least, used to be human. From Solheim, I believe, before it's destruction. His father, a priest, offered him to the Six to become a Messenger, and thus he was blessed. He became more than human, but not entirely inhuman, if that makes sense. He is still partly mortal- he can still be killed- but he ages slowly, and he holds a variety of abilities due to the blessing. One such ability being that of limited temporal manipulation."

Noct makes direct eye contact with his older self. "What the fuck." He says flatly. Also 'Prom'?

Older Noct goes even redder which is, again, weird. Kinda disturbing actually. "He's pretty." Older Noctis mumbles, flustered but still defensive.

"Pretty," Noct's father echoes from the throne. Older Noctis turns abruptly, calls, "I'm going to get him now," over his shoulder and kneels a few paces away. He places his hands together in the semblance of prayer and speaks, slow and weighted.

“O Messenger, hear my call and come forth.” Older Noctis chants lowly, voice rumbling oddly in his chest. And, for a moment, nothing happens.

And then Noct hears the sound of a flock of birds’ beating wings, rising in volume. Ebony feathers start to float down from the ceiling, whirling to an invisible rhythm, to absent wind currents. They, too, increase in volume, cascading and swirling around. Forming a humanoid figure, Noct realises with a start. The feathers lose individuality, and colour seeps into the dark abyss of plumage. A young man emerges, three inky feathers tucked in his shock of blond hair, his eyes vibrant blue. His outfit is dark and covered with even more black feathers. A hood rests just visible on the back of his neck, lined with feathers instead of faux fur.

“Well hey there, Your Majesty.” There is a pause as the young man takes in the others in the room. He tilts his head and amends, “Majesties." A few small, stray plumes finally land, just by his feet. He seems oblivious. Older Noctis takes the Messenger's offered hand and stands, gazing at the Messenger with warmth and unconcealed affection. He looks like he's in love. "How on Eos did you manage that?” The Messenger asks amusedly.

“A hunt," he says. "Our target did this, somehow.” Something flickers in the Messenger's expression. "Can you get us back?" The Messenger hums thoughtfully, cocking a hip and looking over the others in the throne room before locking eyes with Noct. He feels himself freeze, staring into the Messenger's paradoxical eyes; the endless blue of the open summer sky, the unknown depth of a deep sea fissure, the breathtaking clarity of the waters at Galdin Quay.

"Prompto?" Older Gladio asks in the silence, sensing that something is amiss. It's only when the Messenger, Prompto,  breaks eye contact that he realises that he isn't breathing. He tries not to make his shaky inhale noticeable, but he's fairly certain he doesn't succeed. Prompto looks at the three time travellers and grins cockily.

"Yeah, I could get you guys back," he says lightly. "But, y'know, it's pretty interesting that there's more than just the divine way of travelling through time. Gotta wonder if there are other differences, too." There's an odd weight to his words- not the divine weight that Older Noctis' voice had gone when he had called the Messenger, but one deliberately placed. Older Noctis' gaze sharpens, becoming intense.

"Oh?" He asks, matching the Prompto's earlier levity.

"This is all very fascinating," Cor interrupts, drolly, "but what does that mean?" Prompto grins and rocks back on his heels, tension Noct hadn't even noticed in his posture slipping away, making him appear even younger. Older Noctis is grinning to himself, hope etched into the lines in his face.

"There is a prophecy," he starts, "that essentially says the sun will go down one day and not come back up. That daemons will thrive until the King of Light returns, brings back the sun and kills the one responsible for it at the cost of his own life. That King being Noct because of course it is. Time travel by way of the Astrals doesn't affect the outcome of the prophecy. Basically, if I dragged these guys back to this point in time, then no matter what they do, nothing will truly change." Noct feels his heart contract painfully, a chill running down his spine and settling as a heavy weight in his gut.

"You're saying that because this time travel was not due to the gods, but a mindless beast, that the prophecy can be, what, overwritten?"

"Yeah, if you like. I prefer the idea that it's destroyed completely, but that's just me." The king swallows heavily and leans forward on his throne, almost eager. Almost desperate. Had his father known about this so-called prophecy? That Noct was destined to die? He must have if he accepted its existence so easily. Noct wasn't sure how he felt about that, but it definitely wasn't good.

"And you know this for sure?" The king asks, grief and heartache and most of all hope enveloping the words soundly.

"No," Prompto said, almost an apology in itself. "But there's a chance." Oh. Desperation, mirrored from that of the king's. Hope, too. Whatever feelings his older self had for the Messenger seemed reciprocated in full, of not in duplicate. That was oddly reassuring.

"You care about my son," states the king. Prompto nods as if it were a question.

"I love him. Sometimes I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do for him," he says shamelessly and Noct glances at his older self. He looks embarrassed but happy. There is nothing but love when he looks at Prompto. Noct finds himself wishing for that. He's always known he would marry Luna, and he's known for a while now that whatever romantic feelings he had were simply a fleeting crush, that his love for her now is no more than platonic. Not for the first time he longs to be able to marry for love. The desire has never been that strong or that sharp before, though.

Things blur together after that. Older Noctis asks Prompto to stay rather than figure out how to bring them back, and the time travelling quartet are directed to some empty rooms for the foreseeable future. Regis, more king than father in that moment, stays behind in the throne room with Clarus and Cor and talk politics. Noct sees Older Gladio, Ignis and Noctis head into their separate rooms, and sees Prompto completely bypass his assigned room and follow Noctis in. He smiles warmly at Noct as he goes in, and gives a small wave as the door shuts behind him.

Noct can kind of maybe see why his older self fell for him. He still really wants the story though. He'll ask tomorrow, it's late and he's tired from a long day. His last thought before sleep is the vague question on whether or not there's another Prompto out there at this moment in time, twelve years younger than the one in his older self's room and, presumably, bed.

If so, Noct kinda wants to meet him.


End file.
